Check, Please
by HellhoundBound
Summary: One morning at breakfast, Sam notices a waitress heavily flirting with Cas. To Sam's amusement and Dean's confusion , it rouses some jealousy in Dean...embarrassed, he chooses to cover up this jealousy and deny, deny, deny...but how long can this denial last when there are competitors who don't waste their time hiding their attraction to the angel?
1. Chapter 1

**This is just something that came to me the other night. It's one chapter for now, nothing too heavy, but I plan on adding to it when I have some spare time. It's rated M because...well, because I can't help myself, and a story with jealous-kinda-in-denial Dean and sexually oblivious Cas? C'mon, they're asking for it to get dirty.**

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"Hey Dean…check it out."

Sam was keeping his voice deceptively low, his tone laced in mischievous amusement. Dean frowned and wondered what he was up to, but took the hint to be subtle when he craned his neck around to investigate whatever was holding Sam's attention. At first he didn't know what he was supposed to be looking at.

"We send him for one coffee order and he snags himself a groupie."

Dean's eyes found the intended target as Sam was speaking, the realisation of what he was watching only dawning on him slowly, like waking up from a deep sleep. Cas stood at the counter of the café, his stance way too formal for this place and this time of the morning. The Winchesters had mostly given up on trying to get him to act like a normal human.

He seemed to be engaged in conversation with one of the waitresses; much deeper and lengthier conversation than the simple exchange needed to order three coffees. Dean could only see the back of him, but he would put money on Cas being completely oblivious to the raging signals being thrown his way by the redhead behind the counter.

Dean watched in rapt disbelief as the waitress laid her forearms casually on the formica counter in front of her and clasped her hands together, before leaning forward and letting her breasts press together against her arms. Her already impressive cleavage threatened to overspill her uniform blouse. Dean could tell by the way she shifted that on her side of the counter – beyond his eye's reach but probably in the perfect position for the standing angel to see – she was most likely pushing her ass outwards too. So many women had come onto him the same way; a chick driven to him by the endless stream of sleazy bikers she served all night who happened to be clocking off in 10 minutes, or a bored girl stuck behind the check-in counter at a budget motel he strolled into.

This chick wanted Cas, and she was pulling out all the tricks in the book to let him know it.

Dean almost scoffed when she shifted one arm so her hand rested under her chin, and she began chewing and sucking on the end of her pen. She tilted her head minutely to one side as she listened to whatever Cas was saying, her gaze smouldering, as though the angel was some beacon of raw sexuality and the most interesting person she had ever met.

Dean whipped his head back to Sam when he heard a snort of barely-concealed laughter. His brother was modelling a massive, face-splitting grin, and he shook his head gently in disbelieving amusement.

"What?" Dean hissed. Sam rolled his eyes and forked a piece of pancake.

"Look at your face." That smile was beginning to grate on Dean's patience.

"What about my face?"

"I've never seen you look so…_pouty_. You're actually scowling." He shoved the forkful of food into his mouth and continued casually with his mouth full. "Dammit, I forgot I don't have coffee yet."

"Excuse me?" Dean scoffed. "I do _not_ pout. Or scowl. Why would I?"

"Oh, Dean." Sam mocked. "That's adorable. Pretending you're not the jealous type."

Dean felt his face light up like a Christmas tree. Sure,_ now_ he was scowling.

Despite his best efforts to thwart Sam and pay the angel no more mind, he found himself turning back around to check on the situation. Cas still stood with a straight back, hands hanging limply at his sides and head facing forward; every inch the oblivious robot. It made Dean want to laugh, but the girl giggled suddenly and broke his train of thought.

He found himself attempting to listen to their conversation.

"I'm a coffee person too." She cooed, and it amazed Dean the lengths she was going to to try and appear sexy. _Honestly, who tried to make a conversation about coffee sound sexy?_ "I like mine quite strong…" She bit her lip as her hooded eyes gave Cas a very un-subtle once-over.

"Did you _see_ that!" Dean hissed incredulously, whipping his head back around to Sam and then back to the pair at the counter to watch the scene unfold further. Sam felt his face contort in the effort to subdue a burst of laughter, and Dean didn't even notice.

"I don't drink coffee much, myself." Castiel replied – finally, the bitch was letting him get a word in. _Woah_… Dean chose to ignore the sudden stab of animosity he had felt, taking him by surprise. Best to leave some things un-investigated…

"My friends have instructed me to bring some. They suggested I get a cup for myself."

"Yeah, kinda thirsty…" Dean muttered, and was completely ignored. The waitress didn't even glance towards their table to see who Cas referred to. _Yes, definitely a bitch._

"You like being told what to do?" She asked, her lip curling in a smile. Her head dipped lower and she looked up at Cas through her lashes. "I can work with that."

_Ok_, Dean thought, _this is bordering on sexual harassment_.

"She can't say that." Dean said, not even bothering to turn around to Sam this time.

"Who says she can't?" Sam replied. "She's not doing any harm." Even without looking at him, Dean could hear the smirk in his brother's voice, and it made his blood boil. There was nothing to mock here, he was simply concerned for the well-being of an innocent angel. This slut was about to try and _defile_ him, and…

"Did you just call her a slut?" Sam's voice was filled with glee, and his eyes were lit up like a child on Christmas. Dean recoiled at the realisation that he had spoken aloud, and sounded like a bitchy girl in the process.

"Fuck off."

_Hmm, interesting response. Nice one Dean._

On turning his attention back to the uncomfortable exchange – which was costing him his coffee, thank you very much – Dean's stomach jolted uncomfortably. The girl had reached out and gently taken the tip of Cas' ever-present tie between her thumb and forefinger. She fingered it idly, sweeping the pad of her thumb over the material in a soft circular motion as she spoke to him, not breaking eye contact.

Dean felt his scalp prickle with unidentifiable discomfort. He suddenly felt too warm, and found himself wanting to escape for some cooler air outside this too-warm, stuffy and shitty café with its shitty food and probably shitty coffee and it's whorish waitresses, who clearly couldn't keep their hands to…

"So, want anything else with that coffee, handsome?" She suddenly released the tie and backed up off the counter, standing upright and smoothing her skirt un-subtly over her backside as she turned away from Cas to finally make their coffee.

"I…erh…no thanks, thank you…coffee will suffice."

Castiel…was stumbling over his words.

Dean suddenly didn't want to touch the coffee, or finish his bacon. His neck was aching from craning it around so much, even after shifting the position of his body for a better angle. He ignored the throb in his spine and kept watching.

"You sure, hon?" She asked as she turned back around with the full pot of coffee and some milk balanced on a tray. "There's a lot of mouth-watering stuff here…."

"No thank you." Castiel replied, and his voice sounded off-key. Dean wanted to flinch.

"Pancakes? Blueberry pie? Me?" She winked at him, and her salacious grin returned. Castiel's foot shifted on the floor, and Dean took this as a sign that he was clearly being traumatised. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take before he would have to interrupt her embarrassing display to save her any further humiliation and to preserve his friend's innocence.

"I think I'll take some blueberry pie." Dean raised his eyebrows, as did the waitress, and it occurred to Dean that she might have taken this as a dismissal of her offer. Given the choice between this tramp and baked goods, Dean certainly knew which one _he_ would opt for…

She planted a neat slice on the tray between them. Castiel lifted the tray carefully and made his way back to the table, after what felt like twenty minutes.

"Have fun there, big boy?" Sam…Dean had completely forgotten about him and his ridiculous ideas. He shot his brother a glare with the ferocity of daggers in his eyes.

"I don't understand that reference." Castiel replied, without looking up from the cups as he distributed them and poured coffee into each one in turn. Dean felt a spark of satisfaction that Sam had been denied an opportunity to embarrass him.

Seemingly sensing this satisfaction, Sam pressed on.

"C'mon Cas, she was all over you. Why don't you go out with her some time? Seems like she would be a _whole_ lot of fun…" Dean didn't miss the stress on certain words, or the self-satisfied look Sam quickly gave him as he spoke with an impish grin.

"I don't doubt she would be fun. But she is not suited to me."

Dean had to hand it to Cas, his poker face was infallible. Not understanding half of the veiled references and innuendos probably helped with that, but he still got that smug feeling when Cas dismissed Sam's teasing comments.

"Not suited to you? She's…well…she's hot, Cas." He smiled again, wiping syrup up with a forkful of pancake.

"I took the initiative and bought this for you." Castiel stated. At first Dean was utterly perplexed at what he was referring to, until the angel lifted the small plate off the tray and sat the neat slice of blueberry pie in front of him.

"…For me?"

"You like pie."

Dean raised his eyebrows, studying the slice, aware that the angel was evaluating his reaction. He glanced sideways at Cas and smiled in thanks, picking up a fork and digging in gratefully. Sam noted with interest that Castiel only seemed to relax and look back to his own coffee when he seemed satisfied that Dean was enjoying his baked gift.

Dean realised that Cas hadn't even bothered to acknowledge Sam's teasing that last time, and it made something satisfying snake through him. Or maybe it was just the pie.

The waitress left her number and her name – Cara – on a napkin beside Castiel's arm as she passed on the way to another table. As they vacated their seats in the booth and made to leave the café, Dean noticed that Cas paid it no mind other than to turn it over, writing-side down, and leave it sitting on the table beside the plate of pie-crumbs. Dean chose to ignore the creeping satisfied feeling he got at witnessing this. He also pushed aside the seething dislike he had developed towards this random woman. He would attribute them to a combination of excellent pie, but crappy coffee and even crappier service.

Yeah, some feelings were just better left unexamined.


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is long compared to the first one. I couldn't really think of a way to divide it, and since it's just one of those 'setting the scene' chapters, it didn't really seem worth splitting it up. Story is definitely not over anyhow. And as for my other current story (Secrets), I'm unsure whether or not I should post a concluding chapter, or just leave it where it is...hmm. Anyway, enjoy this chapter :)**

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"Are we going to talk about it?"

Sam's voice was once again hushed as he addressed his brother. Only a sliver of the amused satisfaction was present in his tone now, and Dean was surprised that the newfound edge of seriousness was what pissed him off more than the all-out teasing.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"So why have you lowered your voice?"

"Because you…fuck off, Sam!"

The increased volume of Dean's voice caused Castiel to turn his head around as he walked towards the gas station with a pocketful of Dean's money - the latest hurdle in the Winchesters' angelic-socialisation tasks was for Cas to successfully pay for the full tank the Impala now held. If he was going to be away from Heaven, he had to learn to act like a human.

The brothers sat in the car and waited, surveying his every move. Sam waved at him as he turned to look at them, and Castiel must have deduced nothing was wrong as he walked into the station.

"Seriously, Dean…you were jealous in that diner."

"No. I wanted my coffee, and I didn't want that clueless sap to be defiled in the process." Without taking his eyes off the angel across the parking lot, he could sense a smirk returning to Sam's face.

"…sure, not if it was someone _else_ defiling the clueless sap…"

"I don't want to do any defiling! Of anyone! God, is it insane to want to go for coffee without having one of us sexually harassed? Is it?" Dean took a deep breath in and turned away from Sam to stare out the windshield once again, not actually recalling when he had spun around to face his brother in the tight space of the car. He shifted in the driver's seat.

Sam held up his hands with a grin in a sign of mock-surrender. "Alright, alright, you don't want to do any defiling." A pregnant pause followed, and Dean wished he could stuff something porous and expansive inside Sam's ears and down his throat to absorb his stupid thoughts and comments before he was able to voice them. He pursed his lips and waited. "…Just make sure you don't tell Cas that."

"Tell him what?"

"That you don't want to get down and dirty with him. It would just upset him."

"Sam, why the hell would you say that?"

"I was sick of using the word 'defile'…"

"No, Sam…" Dean squeezed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Why would you say Cas would be upset by...that?" Dean couldn't even stand to think of Sam's ludicrous wording, let alone repeat it out loud.

"Oh come on, Dean." Sam said, the smirk returning. "You can't be that clueless. He brings you your favourite foods, he always wants _your_ approval and _your_opinions…and don't tell me you haven't noticed the lack of personal space issue. It would be more annoying if it wasn't so damn cute…" Sam pulled a face to accompany his teasing, and Dean felt the beginnings of a headache.

"Ok, so he knows I like pie. Who cares? You bring me pie all the time. And he does the space-invader routine with _everyone_…"

Sam's mouth twitched at the corners and he shrugged, his pretence of surrendering draped in smugness. He thought he was superior for noticing these things – these non-existent things that didn't actually occur, thank you very much – and he thought it was hilarious that Dean was making excuses. Dean felt his eye twitch and he stared out the windshield once again.

"Ok Dean, you win." Sam continued speaking much to his brother's annoyance. "Although I will give Cas props for one thing – at least he's not in total denial."

"What, implying that I am? What exactly am I in denial about, Sam?" On some level Dean realised he was rising to his brother's bait, but on another level he couldn't resist the temptation to argue his point and make Sam see how ridiculous his insinuations were. He _had_ to see that he was deluded.

"Don't attack me." Sam said, not bothering to turn and face Dean. "All I'm saying is…sometimes it seems like you might like Cas too. Say whatever you like, but _sometimes_, Dean. Case in point, the diner…"

Dean was ready to bite out another harsh reply when the all-too-familiar voice surprised them from the back seat.

"You have change." Cas held out a closed fist and waited for Dean to respond. The older Winchester was staring menacingly at Sam, daring him to break the sudden and uncomfortable silence. "Is something wrong?" The angel looked between the brothers, brow knitting together in confusion as he tried to evaluate their pointed, tense silence and their differing moods. Dean held out an upturned palm without taking his eyes from Sam.

"Thanks, Cas. You did good." He pocketed the coins.

"Yeah," Sam added with a face-splitting grin, "real good." Dean fixed him with a glare that screamed silent threats. Sam seemed amused simply by the fact Dean had spoken to Cas, as though it were some sort of victory for him in their previously discussed 'Dean-in-denial' case. The angel continued to look between them, undoubtedly failing to understand what loop he was being kept out of that had Sam smiling and Dean looking tense with anger. He shook his head and vanished with the flutter of wings, deciding to leave the humans to their bemusing interactions.

"Shut the hell up." Dean said before Sam could jump in again. Sam snorted a laugh.

Dean resented this case that had somehow been brought against him in the last couple of days. Since when did Sam go around picking up on peoples' behaviour and creating social awkwardness? He refused to be a defendant pleading not guilty to being attracted to an angel - the entire notion was so stupid it made his brain ache. Sam could sit and gloat with his accusing eyes and his smug smirk all day for all he cared. Dean sighed and turned on the radio, deciding to crank it obnoxiously loud. If he wasn't allowed to enjoy a quiet car ride, neither was Sam.

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"Come on, Dean. Why not?" Sam pouted over-dramatically at his brother, swinging an arm around Castiel's shoulders as he did so.

"We don't know the bars around here, Sam…you know what'll happen if we take _him_ into one. They'll pick up on the fact that he's…._different_…and we'll have a fight on our hands." Neither brother missed the way Castiel's face contorted in disapproval at Dean's words.

"He'll be fine." Sam countered. "People don't care if a weird out-of-towner comes into their local bar – this isn't a horror movie, Dean." Dean rolled his eyes. "Plus…he has you to protect him."

Dean shot Sam a penetrating, fierce glare. He was starting to tread on forbidden, irritating and all-too-familiar ground here.

"Come on, man." Sam had stopped teasing. "We've had him try to act normal for weeks now. He deserves a break…and a drink or two."

Sam started to head across the street before Dean could even counter his point. And he supposed Sam _did_ have a point.

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"Beers all round?" Sam looked to the other two, grinning fiercely in triumph. Dean sighed and narrowed his eyes, accepting the beer when it met his hand with a look of distaste. Castiel studied his suspiciously, looking worried. Dean cringed; he was acting weird already. If they didn't get taunted and beat on tonight, it would be some kind of god-damned miracle.

"I drank too much once, before…" Cas murmured unsurely, his eyes leaving his beer to flicker between the brothers. "Please, don't allow me to do it again." Sam snorted a laugh despite the worry in Castiel's eyes that made Dean feel just a little sorry for him, and Dean found he kind of wanted to slap Sam for laughing. He found his eyes shooting daggers at his brother without conscious thought before he turned to Cas.

"Look, calm down. We'll stop you if we think you've had enough, but that's unlikely to happen. What would your limit be, like…seven hundred beers?" Cas didn't frown or come out with some amusing, clueless statement. He stared blankly, looking more sorrowful than concerned now.

"I've been severed from Heaven for quite some time now. It takes more effort for me to tap into my power, but I'm not aware of how certain thresholds may have been affected."

"It's ok, Cas." Sam piped up. "Don't feel bad. We'll keep an eye on you – promise." He smiled reassuringly, holding his drink aloft and clinking it with Castiel's bottle before taking a gulp. Castiel hesitantly copied him as Dean clapped him on the shoulder.

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Ok, so…there was maybe a small chance…_maybe_…that 'keeping an eye' on Castiel's drinking hadn't entirely gone to plan, Dean reflected.

Sam and Castiel stood – and Dean would have used the word 'stood' lightly - in the centre of the room, arms wound around the other's waist. They had somehow managed to drag around seven other patrons (it looked like seven, but then again Dean's vision was blurring around the edges…) into standing this way with them, in a line and holding each other. Not a single person in the line-up was without a massive smile on their face, each person bursting into fits of giggles at random times as they fell into each other. They all leaned forward slightly to look at Sam and Cas, in the centre of the strange line.

"The music should have started by now, I dunno…" Castiel slurred with a smile, his eyes sliding closed and his head dipping slightly. He seemed to burst awake again with renewed energy when nondescript music – much louder than the background juke-box songs that had been playing thus far – filled the room, in sync with the room darkening and being lit in shades of red, blue and green. Dean forced his vision to focus on the clock above the bar – midnight exactly, and not a second later. Apparently, this bar liked to turn things up a bit after regular drinking hours.

As he watched the line of people, all focussed on Castiel and Sam's drunken direction, Dean accepted that maybe checking out the local haunts of unknown towns wasn't always destined to end in bar-fights and parking-lot brawls. Sure, Cas was weird - and so were he and Sam – but this place was apparently all too comfortable with otherworldly total strangers.

Dean realised he was having trouble holding himself on his bar stool. He couldn't remember why he had declined to join in his brother's idea – hanging on to drunken strangers while you danced the can-can to a random bouncing pop tune looked like more fun than Dean could remember ever having in his life. Sam was a total _genius_…

"You alright there, handsome?" Someone drawled at Dean. He turned around in his stool as carefully as possible to avoid toppling, and met the eyes of a brunette behind the bar. She smiled at him, obviously noticing how drunk he was.

"I'm great." He grinned back, placing his empty glass on the counter - his empty _hurricane_ glass, he noticed with confusion - a burned-out sparkler and a tiny trail of tinsel in it, a half-bitten slice of lime at the bottom. Dean frowned and sat it down with hesitancy, as though it was a bomb he had just discovered in his pocket. He wondered if he should be worried that he had no idea what the hell he was drinking, and that he couldn't remember ordering it. She peered at him, and he realised he must have looked like he was in a trance. He concentrated on her – _must not look too drunk_.

"Suck, Bang and Blow?" She smiled, taking the glass from the counter.

Ok, so either this was the best night of his life, or Dean was officially over his limit.

"What?"

"…your drink? You've just finished your third. And you bought some for your friends over there…"

Dean whipped his head around (_too fast, oh god…_) to see that Sam and Cas each clasped the same empty hurricane glass as they bounced around the floor with strangers, still can-canning un-evenly. Cas had his slice of lime in his mouth and was sucking at it, to the utter delight of some girl who was shrieking with laughter.

Dean's face reddened. "Yeah…the drink, right."

The bartender tried miserably to supress her smirk. "Another?"

"…why the fuck not." Dean slurred, going for his wallet. As the girl bustled around the counters, grabbing various bottles and judging the quantities by sight, Dean caught her looking at him.

Gold Tequila entered the glass.

_Oh god…that explains it._

_Is that…a whole fucking cup of sugar going into that thing?_

She lit the sparkler and delicately placed the slice of lime and the tinsel into the ridiculous looking glass. She was no longer even trying to hide her grin, she knew Dean realised how hilarious this looked. He felt himself smiling in return as he forked over a stupid amount of money for the monstrosity. Dean glanced over at Sam and Castiel, who had now encouraged people to pair off into twosomes and attempt synchronised dances with each other, choreographed on-the-spot by the drunken, swaying moose. He almost snorted when Sam – barely able to keep control of his gangly limbs – tried to lift Castiel from behind in a Heimlich-style grasp, only to lose his balance and drop the angel onto the floor in a heap of sticky alcohol, legs and laughter.

Dean found he sort of liked seeing Cas let loose a little. Sure, they had forgotten their promise of not letting him drink to excess - that was well and truly out the window the minute 'Suck, Bang and Blow' came into the equation – but for the first time since becoming more or less earthbound, the angel looked like he was happy. Dean couldn't remember seeing him have genuine fun before – this may be the first time he had experienced laughing. Watching Cas, with his coat, suit-jacket and tie discarded on the stool beside Dean and his shirt loosened by three buttons, Dean found himself smiling.

"Better make it three of these….things."

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An arm clapped roughly around Dean's shoulders as he sat in his stool, sipping his drink through a straw, too far gone to care that he was _sipping a cocktail through a fucking straw_.

"Suck, Bang and Blow?"

"Sam, I'm your brother. That's disgusting." Dean then proceeded to snort a laugh as his mind conjured up the play-on-words 'Wincest'. He loved his own jokes.

Sam grabbed one of the hurricane glasses from the counter in front of Dean, and another intoxicated body pressed to him at his right side.

"Mmmm." Cas reached for the other. "I like these." He instantly slipped the straw between his lips.

"I can see that." Dean smirked, surveying the drunken angel from head to toe. He swayed dangerously and held the bar counter for support. Dean gripped one of his elbows, almost falling himself at the sudden movement. "Fancy sitting down a while, Cas? You're like…_Bambi_. Y'might fall." Castiel shook his head vehemently.

"No, I have to go dance. Why didn't you want to dance, Dean? _Sam_ will dance with me."

"I'm not the dancing type. You go ahead. Have fun." Dean watched him retreat to the dancefloor in a half-sulk, Sam following. His brother turned around to shoot Dean a _look_ – he quirked his eyebrows and bit his lip as he followed Cas, and Dean knew exactly what he was insinuating. He wouldn't rise to the bait this time. Not dancing had nothing to do with Cas. _Sam_ had nothing to do with Cas.

Now all he could think about was Cas.

And that Sam is an asshole.

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Dean realised he had lost sight of the angel – he wasn't dancing with Sam as he had been before, and didn't appear to be in the immediate surrounding area. The bar was busy now; at 12.50AM, Dean wondered if this was the only bar in town that lended itself to club-like partying at night – it seemed likely.

He sighed and lifted himself carefully off his stool, making his way to the dancefloor with his drink in his hand. Dean attempted to shift the drunk, dancing bodies out of his path as he moved towards Sam, with difficulty. He felt the floor move beneath his feet and his head swim, feeling the need to lay a hand on Sam's shoulder when he reached him just to steady himself. Sam looked mildly irritated at this, as did the olive-skinned girl he was dancing rather intimately with.

"Y'seen Cas?" Dean slurred. "Couldn't see him from over there."

Sam almost seemed to forget about the girl entirely, as his face creased in drunken amusement. "God forbid you couldn't see him, eh Dean? Have to watch him dancing, don't you?" The girl frowned in confusion, rolled her eyes and stalked off, with Sam failing to notice. Dean hoped the glare he was sending his brother's way was effective at showing how serious he was.

"I just want to know he's ok, man."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course he'll be ok. These people love drunk Cas! He's…"

Sam's sudden pause and pointed stare over Dean's shoulder did not go unnoticed. Dean turned slowly, in what he hoped was a subtle way, to see what Sam was looking at, and felt a not-unfamiliar twinge in his gut.

Metres away from them, a man was chatting to Cas. Normally, this would have been nothing, but the way the man stood too close to him, the way his hand brushed the side of Castiel's neck when he leaned to his ear to talk above the music and the way he held eye contact for a little too long before his gaze roamed lower…Dean hated it.

It reminded him of the waitress in the diner the other day, only…now it was a guy doing this. This wasn't some cheap girl who Cas could brush off with a smile and the pretence of not noticing her phone number – this was a man. A drunk man. In a bar…or, club…whatever. He was too close, and Castiel was slurring and swaying. What if he wanted to get away and he couldn't find them? He obviously didn't understand what this sleazy asshole had in mind. Dean's stomach churned with revulsion at the thought.

Dean felt his legs propel him towards Cas through the crowd, shoving drunk people out his way as he went. Sam followed hurriedly behind, grasping at Dean's shirt sleeve. They were so close to Cas, Dean thought, so close and he didn't even notice them.

"Cas!" He attempted to shout above the music, but the guy was leaning in and talking directly into his ear again. Dean made to walk forward, but a rough grip on his arm yanked him back.

"Leave him, Dean." Sam commanded, his voice suddenly serious. "I mean it, you can't keep stopping him from talking to people. You don't want to have him for yourself, but you don't want anyone else to have him either? That's selfish. Leave him to it." By the end of his speech, Sam sounded less admonishing and more like he was simply stating a fact or ending a friendly conversation. Dean found it strange that it was Sam's sudden _lack_ of teasing that bothered him now, as though his transition into this tone meant it was becoming fact that Castiel was going to go shacking up with people, and it would be normal and fine and he should somehow _accept_ it…

He was staring at the pair now, Sam's hand no longer on him but still keeping a watchful eye. They both caught the tail-end of the mystery man's words, spoken in a refined English accent, as the previous track transitioned into the next.

"…I'd like to do to you…"

Dean's stomach clenched uncomfortably like he had ingested poison. The man didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that his raised voice had sounded out over momentary quiet. He leaned closer to Castiel's ear and began to speak again, and Dean cursed the loud music for not letting him hear their exchange. He watched in horror as the man's hand crept up to Castiel's hip as he spoke, softly planting itself there.

_As if he won't notice._

The other hand twitched hesitantly at his side, and Dean felt sick at the thought of what he was planning on doing with it.

Dean monitored Castiel's reaction, or lack thereof. He wasn't pulling away or cringing subtly. He didn't seem to be uncomfortable at all. Dean watched from behind him, studying what body language he could, and the unpleasant feeling in his gut intensified. The man raised his stationary hand to Cas' head, and ran it slowly through his hair, all the while holding his hip and talking into his ear. Dean felt his skin prickle with distilled hatred, bubbling fiercely below the surface. This asshole thought he could just _touch_ Cas like that? Just shove his dirty fingers into Cas' hair and keep them there for so long…what is he doing, _grooming_ him?

The fingers finished combing through Castiel's hair and they were removed, only to repeat the action. He was effectively _stroking_ Cas, _and_ holding him.

Dean shuffled closer in what he hoped was a subtle way, hating the feeling that he was somehow intruding on something. Castiel did _not_ belong to this asshole.

"-fuck you 'til your toes curl."

_What the fuck?_ Dean felt the heat under his skin reach his face, shock hitting him so suddenly it almost sobered him.

No. This was not about to happen.

"Excuse me, mind if I cut in?" Dean interrupted with his most charming smile. It worked on the ladies, he reasoned, it would hopefully placate this sleazy bastard.

"Who are you?" The guy seemed irritated, and totally unaffected by Dean's efforts. He stared accusingly.

"Nevermind who I am, princess." He turned to Castiel. "Cas, are you ready to go, or…"

Dean was suddenly caught off-guard by the look on the angel's face. Castiel looked bewildered, flushed and…warm, and it wasn't the doing of alcohol. His cheeks were darker than was natural to him, and he seemed slightly disorientated by what was now happening, by the fact Dean was standing where he hadn't been just moments before. His pupils were dilated, his mouth appeared dry…

Dean's eyes were drawn downwards without so much as a whisper of consent from his conscious mind, and they settled on what he already knew he would find. His gut-churning feeling was intensified when he noticed the distinct bulge at the front of Cas' pants, still pronounced as a result of the lewd whisperings moments ago. Dean was unable, or unwilling, to identify the tight feeling in his chest.

"Cas…I uh…" Dean suddenly felt his stomach contract warningly. He muttered a curse and stalked unsteadily towards the bathroom, vaguely aware of the man, Castiel and Sam all staring after him. Their eyes bored holes into his back. He threw up unceremoniously once he reached a stall inside, and decided he had definitely consumed more than enough ridiculously named, camp alcoholic cocktails for one night.

Dean felt rage bubble inside him as he settled down on the floor for a nap. The cool ceramic of the toilet bowl was soothing to his forehead and he drifted into drunken sleep, dreaming fitfully of an imaginary Heaven, perversely filled with raven-haired incubi.


End file.
